


always find me here

by robotsdance



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (in the context of trial by combat time loops), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Time Loop, Trial by Combat, and death, canon divergence after 805, dany on the throne, jaime survives the bricks incident, suicidal intentions and actions, talking about their issues, unholy uses of repetition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22527805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdance/pseuds/robotsdance
Summary: “Please,” Jaime says as their swords crash together, “This is my execution. There is no need to prolong it.”“Trial! This is your trial!” Brienne insists. Their swords meet again and again.They’ve had this fight before.Time Loop Trial by Combat AU
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 276
Kudos: 441





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> slipsthrufingers said "you should write a groundhog day au!" and I said "noooooooo".

Jaime wakes up in a cell in a more structurally sound part of the Red Keep feeling like his body has been smashed to pieces. (Tyrion later informs him that was very nearly the case).

The pain is a dull ache.

Constant, but manageable.

He will survive.

*

Tyrion was the one who found Jaime alive in the rubble. Jaime doesn’t remember, but it must be true.

No one else would have bothered to look for him.

Jaime made sure of that.

*

Cersei is dead.

Tyrion tells him this bluntly. More than once.

To make sure Jaime understands.

That Cersei is dead.

*

Cersei is dead.

Brienne was right.

Jaime couldn’t save her.

*

He thinks of Brienne only when he cannot stop himself from doing so.

Which is often.

*

It has been days on end and Jaime is still wearing the clothes he was wearing when he was found.

The clothes he almost died in.

Jaime suspects that he will be given the opportunity to die while wearing these clothes again.

Sooner rather than later.

*

Days continue to pass and Jaime isn’t supposed to be here.

He knows this.

He wasn’t supposed to survive his arrival in the north.

He wasn’t supposed to survive the long night.

He certainly wasn’t supposed to survive his return to King’s Landing. Not when Cersei…

Not after that.

But here he is.

Alive.

*

(Jaime knows he won’t be alive for long.)

*

Tyrion tells him that Jaime will remain in this cell until he is well enough to stand trial.

Trial is the word Tyrion uses.

But Jaime knows it is not the one he means.

*

Tyrion has come to visit him several times before Jaime chances to ask the question that weighs heavy in his chest, making his throat burn, and when he does, it’s barely even a question.

All he manages to say is “Brienne…”

Jaime doesn’t know which version of that question he was trying to ask, but it does not matter.

Tyrion answers with a silent shake of his head.

Jaime understands that it is not his right to ask after her. Not after what he did.

Jaime does not mention her again.

*

(He still thinks of Brienne. Constantly.)

*

What little news of the new regime Jaime gets, filtered through Tyrion and the rotating guards who bring him enough food to keep him alive, is not heartening.

He comforts himself with the knowledge that Brienne is safe in the north, far from the new Targaryen queen.

At least there is that.

Brienne is safe.

And far from here.

(Far from him.)

*

He hopes Brienne thinks he is already dead.

*

Tyrion tells him that Jaime will remain in this cell until he is well enough to stand trial. Every time Jaime asks why he is still here, that is the answer. And Jaime has heard it enough.

“I am already well enough to die,” Jaime snaps.

“The queen intends you to,” Tyrion confirms, regret creeping into the fatigue in his voice, “But it seems she is waiting for the opportune moment.”

“Tell her I grow tired of waiting,” he says.

*

He does not count the days that pass as he waits, but it is more than he expects. He should be dead. Long dead.

He will be soon.

*

Jaime wakes to the clang of steel against the bars of his cell.

“Get up,” a guard grunts. Which can only mean one thing.

Jaime should be afraid, knowing he is to die today, but he is not.

He is just immensely relieved.

*

They bring him water to wash with as well as some food and tell him he has until the other guards arrive with armour for him to finish up with the first two.

Jaime considers refusing all three. Let him arrive to this farce of a trial in clothes he’s been rotting in for over a moon, all sweat and dirt and debris. Let the queen be certain he will not make himself pretty for the show she wishes to make of him.

But Jaime is hungry and filthy and currently alive so he eats the pitiful last meal before reaching for the bucket of water.

He’s going to die either way, but the first handful of cold water he splashes against his face feels so good he’s almost sorry for that fact.

*

The armour they give him does not fit as well as his own did.

It fits well enough to die in.

*

The sun has just broken the horizon when he is led outside and today is already an immeasurable improvement over the previous stretch of days.

He closes his eyes as he walks and breathes deep. Listens to the crash of waves in the distance. Feels the breeze on his skin.

It takes him a while to notice.

That they’re leading him to the dragonpit.

*

The sun creeps higher in the sky.

His trial will be by combat.

That is what Jaime is told.

He does not believe them.

He is not a stupid man.

He knows regardless of what they call it, this is his execution.

*

Jaime can hear a crowd forming beyond the small room he is in.

He’s standing under heavy guard in a holding room that opens into the dragonpit. He imagines years ago it is where animals were led and then funnelled towards the dragons beyond.

He fails to see how his situation is any different.

*

His opponent is going to be a dragon. Jaime can feel it. He’s going to be led into the pit and informed the queen’s champion is a dragon and his trial by combat will commence without further ceremony.

May the judgement of the gods be swift.

*

The guard closest to the small hallway that leads to the dragonpit in front of where Jaime stands leans to his left and looks out towards the sunlight.

“Lovely day for it,” the guard says.

Jaime should kill him where he stands for daring to speak such words but he can’t help but agree.

It’s a lovely day to die.

*

A horn sounds.

The guards in front of him part to let him pass.

They haven’t given him a sword yet.

Perhaps he doesn’t get one.

Jaime walks towards the light.

*

There’s a sword waiting for him in the short hall that leads to the dragonpit.

Jaime picks up the sword without breaking stride.

He is not one to delay the inevitable.

*

A dragon.

There is a dragon perched on the highest rung of the walls of the pit across from where he entered.

A considerable crowd has gathered for the occasion of his death. They’re packed into the surrounding area everywhere they can fit (though the seats directly in front of where the dragon rests are empty). If they’re waiting for him to react to his opponent, they will remain disappointed.

Jaime looks to his right, where Daenerys Targaryen is sitting in the first row of the elevated spectator seats, guards on either side of the royal viewing area. The chair to her right is empty. Notably empty. Jaime looks more carefully to be sure, but Tyrion is not here. No doubt absent by the queen’s design.

The queen doesn’t take her eyes off him as she rises to her feet.

*

Usually it would not be the queen addressing the crowd to begin a trial by combat but she evidently has some things she wishes to say.

Jaime keeps his eyes on Daenerys Targaryen as she lists the crimes to which he stands accused.

Jaime keeps his eyes on the dragon queen so he won’t be tempted to look at the dragon.

*

When the queen announces the imminent trial by combat to ascertain Jaime’s guilt in the eyes of the gods he squeezes the hilt of his sword, testing the balance of it ever so slightly, wondering if he’ll even have a chance to raise it before the dragonfire claims him.

When it’s time for the queen to introduce her champion she pauses instead. The look on the queen’s face. Jaime knows that look.

Terror jolts through Jaime as he turns back to the direction of the dragon, unwilling to even consider—

The dragon is still there, looking down at him from above.

But below the dragon, standing on the other side of dragonpit across from him, is Brienne.

Ser Brienne of Tarth.

His opponent.

*

No.

He must have said it out loud or else it is all over his face because the queen is smiling now. A horrible not-quite smile that makes Jaime tremble where he stands.

The cruelty of this is inspired.

It’s something Cersei would do.

*

Jaime is staring at Brienne and she’s staring back at him and her face is as expressionless and empty as she can keep it but even at this distance he can see her eyes and her eyes are anything but empty in this moment.

Jaime is rooted to the spot. He’s not sure he could move even if he wanted to.

*

Jaime knows. He knows he deserves the worst punishment the queen can think of but Brienne. Brienne does not deserve this.

And perhaps Brienne deserves the opportunity to kill him on her own terms, but she does not deserve this.

Brienne does not deserve this. Brienne does not deserve this. Brienne does not deserve this.

*

The queen orders them to step forward. To begin. To fight.

The command hangs in the air around them.

Then Brienne turns to the queen before Jaime can think of anything. She lays her sword down at her feet and says, “I yield.”

*

Brienne is asked to repeat herself over the noise of the crowd so she does.

“A trial by combat need not be to the death,” Brienne says, loud and clear and desperately, stupidly brave, “I yield.”

“You yield?” the queen repeats in disbelief.

“I do.”

“To this man.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You yield to the man who murdered my father, the king he was sworn to protect, in the sights of the gods and men on this, the occasion of his trial?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The crowd buzzes. The noise rattles around inside Jaime as he tries to think against the dread rising within him.

“Very well,” the queen says, plainly livid, but her expression is empty courtesy that Jaime knows all too well, “Guards, allow my champion to approach. I wish to discuss the terms of our arrangement,” her gaze shifts to Jaime, making his blood run cold, “If he moves, kill him.”

*

Guards pour into the dragonpit forming a path for Brienne to follow to approach the queen as archers rise to the ready on either side of where Daenerys sits.

Jaime can only watch as Brienne steps over her sword to comply with the queen’s request.

*

Brienne is halfway to the queen when the order is given.

The guards close in around Brienne in an instant. She manages to shove the first to reach her away and then punches the second as Jaime rushes towards her and arrows rain down from above and at least one hits him but it does not register because there are too many guards and Brienne is unarmed and she’s struggling against the hold they’ve got her in and he’s not close enough to do anything as the rest of the guards step back enough for one of them to raise his sword—

*

They kick her severed head towards him as he screams.

*

Jaime doesn’t stop screaming as he collides into the cluster of guards thinking of nothing but killing the man who did this and the men beside him and the woman who ordered it and everyone else who cheered when it happened and he does not stop screaming until his head joins Brienne’s in the dust.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

This must be dying.

That’s all this is. His final moments of consciousness. Flickering through his skull.

He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t know if he could, but he does not want to find out. When it happened… when they cut off his head he lost all sense of where he landed so he does not know what direction he is facing now: Brienne’s head or Brienne’s body.

Either way, he will not find out.

No, he thinks (he can still think somehow. remarkable), the last thing he sees will be of his own making.

His eyes stay closed but he sees Brienne.

*

A horn sounds.

The Stranger is taking his time with Jaime.

Something hits him across his back and then tells him to move.

Which is odd because Jaime is no longer attached to his body.

Jaime opens his eyes.

*

He looks around.

He is standing in the holding room of the dragonpit. Six guards are standing behind him, yelling at him to move.

So Jaime moves.

*

He picks up the sword as he passes it in the short hallway with mounting disorientation.

He’s dead. He’s surely dead. His head several feet from his body _dead_.

Undeniably dead.

But he hears the crowd jeer as he enters the dragonpit as he did when he lived.

*

It is exactly as it was. The dragon across from him. The dragon queen to his right. But this time neither hold his attention because he’s looking at Brienne.

Brienne.

Brienne.

Brienne who is also dead.

Dead in the same way that he is. (Her head. Separate from her body. Dead.)

But there she stands as she did before she was and she’s looking at him and he’s looking at her and he can’t tear his eyes away from her even as the queen commands him to from somewhere far away because this is all he wanted before the Stranger takes him.

To see her again.

Whole. Alive.

Brienne.

He knows it is more than he deserves.

*

The queen commands them to fight but it is of no concern. They are already dead. They will not fight. He will just stand and wait and look at her. And Brienne will just stand and wait and look at him.

Until the end.

But then Brienne turns to the queen and says, “I yield.”

*

“No!” He will not watch it happen again, even in his own failing mind.

He runs towards Brienne. He hears nothing but his own pulse thundering in his ears until dragonfire comes down on them from above.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime opens his eyes. The guard. The stupid guard is standing in front of him.

Jaime blinks. Then again.

Jaime looks around.

He’s is standing in the holding room with the same six guards he was with this morning before he entered the dragonpit.

Which means Jaime is standing.

Jaime holds his eyes shut and counts to five before opening them again.

The guards are still here. Jaime is still here.

Which means Jaime is alive.

Improbably, impossibly alive.

*

He can feel his heart beating in his chest. He can feel his ribcage expanding as he draws breath and exhales. His mind is a flurry of terror. Of Brienne’s head rolling towards him. Of fire claiming them both.

He died in the dragonpit but he is not dead because he has not yet entered it.

He died in the dragonpit twice over but he is not dead because he has not yet entered it.

Which means he is not yet dead.

Which means Brienne is not yet dead.

He knows what he has to do.

*

“I yield!” Jaime proclaims the moment he’s in full view of the queen, before Brienne will have a chance to do the same, holding his sword out and laying it at his feet. She had the right idea, but Jaime is the one who has to do it. He knows this now.

Jaime cannot stop himself from watching Brienne react, watching her step forward and—

“I yield!” Jaime says again, as loud as he can, desperate to drown out Brienne’s words of protest. Not a single person gathered here can be in doubt of the verdict of his trial, “I yield!”

The queen wanted a show, but this will have to do. She stands. “Very well,” the queen says, “Ser Brienne, bring me his head.”

Jaime kneels. He is ready. He does not want it to be like this for Brienne’s sake, but if this is how it must be for Brienne to survive, so be it.

Brienne looks only at the queen as she says, “No.”

“I will not ask again.” The icy fire in the queen’s voice is familiar warning.

“Brienne,” he says, looking up at her, forcing himself to hold her gaze and not falter. He has to do this for her, so she can do this for him, “You must.”

“I will not.”

“Brienne, please…” his voice quavers slightly but does not break, “You don’t understand. If you do not—”

“I will not do it, Your Grace.”

“Then you will die alongside him,” the queen declares.

Brienne kneels beside him.

“So I will.”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The same guards in the same little room with him. Before. Before he and Brienne died.

This can’t be happening.

But it is happening.

And Brienne must live.

Brienne must live.

Which means he must do what he needs to do to make sure she survives.

Brienne must be the one to live.

*

The horn sounds right on cue and the guards send him on his way.

Jaime walks towards the sword, thinking carefully about how he will do this. About where. He needs to be out of reach of the guards behind him, but he does not want to be in the dragonpit. He does not want Brienne to have to see this.

Once he has collected his sword he takes three more steps before turning it towards his chest, seeking a gap between the plates of armour and finding it soon enough. He holds the sword steady and falls forward.

Blood pools beneath him.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

His eyes snap open as his hand goes to his chest, instinctively seeking out the wound he just gave himself.

The wound he just died from.

But he is still not dead.

And he needs to be. He needs to die so Brienne will live.

“Kill me.”

The guard in front of him straightens.

“You heard me,” Jaime says, his voice stronger this time, “Kill me. Please.”

“My lord…”

Jaime feels a twinge of amusement at the guard falling back on proper titles the moment he’s addressed directly. Not such a lovely day for it now.

“I know exactly what awaits me beyond this room,” Jaime says, “Kill me.”

“The queen will kill me if I do.”

Jaime sighs. He’s not wrong.

*

When the horn sounds Jaime goes for the sword and turns it upon himself again.

Perhaps he didn’t die fast enough last time.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime surges forward and tackles the guard to the ground. The man yelps in shock and tries to push Jaime off of him in the clumsy way inexperienced soldiers do but Jaime is too strong for him, punching him hard in the face before getting his hand around his throat as the other guards shout and close in around him.

Before long one of them shoves their sword through his back.

Even as the pain consumes him, Jaime smiles. A sword through the back of the Kingslayer.

Surely that is fitting enough to keep him dead.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He turns and lunges at the man who just killed him. Punches and shouts and provokes the man into killing him harder. A stab wound wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough and Jaime is alive which means Brienne is alive but if he doesn’t die and stay dead Brienne will die.

One of these guards needs to kill him enough to keep him dead and the man Jaime is attacking is the most promising prospect.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime does not care whether his knuckles or the guard’s face splits open first. He does not care if he breaks every fucking bone in his hand in the process of smashing the guard’s teeth in until the others manage to stop him. He does not care about anything but dying here. Nothing else matters.

All that matters is dying here so that Brienne won’t die out there.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime is not dead.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime is not dead.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime is still not dead.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime’s not even sure if the man intends to say it aloud. He wonders if the man would choose his words more carefully if he knew how many times Jaime would have to endure hearing him say it.

“Lovely day for it.”

Probably not.

*

Lovelydayforit is a coward. Not once has he killed Jaime. No matter how Jaime reacts to his infuriating observation, unleashing all of his frustration at being here again on the unsuspecting guard. Even on the occasions Jaime gets his hand on his throat, or else gets his hand on a sword, Lovelydayforit is never the one to kill him.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day…

*

At least two of the guards will kill Jaime if he provokes the room into a brawl. The guard furthest away from him, standing over his right shoulder, is the one most likely to drop his weapon, but it does not matter, because he is also the one the most bloodthirsty guard will protect at all costs.

He has done this so many times.

Jaime knows that even if he gets his hand on a weapon he will be taken down eventually. There is nowhere for him go. Nowhere for him to escape to.

But if he goes into the dragonpit Brienne dies, so he must not set foot there.

He turns and attacks the guard to his far left.

Jaime must die here.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day…”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

No matter how he dies in this room he is back here moments before any of it happened.

No matter how hard he tries to stay dead he does not.

A man atop the soil soaked in his blood many times over.

It doesn’t matter what he does. It doesn’t matter how he dies. He always ends up here.

*

When the horn sounds he does not move. When the guards shout at him to move he does not.

When they beat him he does not resist.

*

Two of the guards lift him by his armpits and drag him into the light of the dragonpit. Jaime is barely conscious, his left eye swollen shut, his nose surely broken. Even as he chokes on his blood and spits out a tooth he is aware of the crowd jeering louder than ever before as the guards drop him.

He crumples to ground.

He hears Brienne yield at the sight of him.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The way Brienne yielded, the way she said his name as she ran to him afterwards, the way she screamed when the queen commanded her dragon to end them both loops in his head, making his whole body ache beyond any of the beatings he’s taken, beyond any of the mortal wounds he has received.

It had been so long since he saw her. He does not know how many days worth of time he has spent trying to die. He does not count the attempts. He does not keep track of how long he lives each time it starts again. He does not know how many times he has heard the guard proclaim it’s a lovely day for it.

(Too many. Too many times.)

The concept of days has stretched beyond his understanding. Beyond his ability to conceptualize. He must have lived through a moon’s worth of time without seeing Brienne, at least. Moons and moons worth of time spent trying to spare Brienne from the fate he has brought upon her. Every waking moment fighting to die to keep her alive, knowing she was just beyond his sight.

Somehow he was still unprepared to see her again. 

Gods how he has missed her.

He steels himself against the urge to run towards her now. Forces himself to pull his attention from the hallway that leads to her. Leads to the dragonpit. If he sees her again, she dies again.

So he must never see her again.

*

Jaime tries everything.

And when he has tried everything, he tries everything again.

He offers bribes. (“Lovely day for it.”)

He tries to escape.(“Lovely day for it.”)

He tries to charm each guard in turn. (“Lovely day for it.”)

Every path ends in his death, either by one of the guard’s hands in a messy fight or by his own, when the horn inevitably sounds and he takes the sword upon himself.

But he keeps trying.

Even as his frustration at his failure mounts and turns to cold fury.

He will not enter the dragonpit again.

Brienne is there.

And if Jaime enters the dragonpit, Brienne dies.

So he will not enter the dragonpit again.

*

Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day for it. Lovely day…

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He has to enter the dragonpit.

He knows this now. He’s known for a while, the same way he knows that when the guards smash his skull in he will be back on his feet in a moment. Even as he struggles and storms through every other path he can create. Every other option leads back to the holding room with the six guards. It does not matter how effectively he provokes them to kill him. It does not matter how many ways he bleeds out in the short hall that leads to the dragonpit out of sight of Brienne. Every time he dies there he comes back.

He has to enter the dragonpit.

The horn sounds.

This time he puts the sword to his wrist in the small hallway. Carves at the scar starting on his stump and then continues up his arm. Deep enough to do the job.

He drops the sword and stumbles towards the sunlight.

He hopes…. he hopes to appease the queen or the gods by being seen. Whoever he needs to satisfy to end this madness. If he cannot die before he enters the dragonpit he will die as soon as he does. Before Brienne can do anything to try and—

Brienne runs towards him at the sight of his blood.

He tries to wave her off. To let her know not to try and help him, but he’s too lightheaded to stay on his feet.

After he has dropped to the ground she kneels beside him and cradles him to her chest.

*

He bleeds out in the arms of the woman he loves.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He curses and rages at the injustice of it as the guards press themselves to the edges of the room. He’s unarmed but his fury makes him more dangerous than a thousand sell-swords and they know it.

That was how it was supposed to be. How he always wanted to go. And Brienne was alive. He’s almost sure. She was alive when he died. He didn’t… he didn’t hear the queen order Brienne’s death. He’s almost certain she didn’t. That was it. That was supposed to be it.

But the queen must have called upon her dragon before the end. Jaime must not have died fast enough for Daenerys Targaryen.

The horn sounds.

Jaime picks up the sword and barrels towards the queen, not caring that he will never reach her.

Gods it feels good to try and kill someone other than himself for a change.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

It’s over so fast and felt so good (right until he died, of course), that he does it again. Charging towards the daughter of the king he killed, like Queenslayer is an attainable title.

The problem is this:

Brienne charges the queen with him.

Arrows first, then fire.

And they die.

Together.

Again.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He steadies himself, waiting for the horn to sound. He has to be smart about this. There must be a way. He cannot be so careless. Brienne must live.

He tries to wound himself enough to fatal, but little enough to conceal it from Brienne. Tries to thread the needle between timing his demise for after he gets into the dragonpit but before Brienne can reveal to the queen that she doesn’t want to see him die.

Every attempt is worse than the last.

He bleeds out helplessly as Brienne yields as she planned.

He watches her lose her head for him more than once. More than a dozen times.

Sometimes Brienne presses her hand to the wound he has given himself, like she can still save him, until the dragonfire comes.

He bleeds and bleeds and bleeds.

And he dies and dies and dies.

And every time Brienne tries to stop it from happening.

Every time.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He is so tired of bleeding. The physical pain is still pain. Every time it hurts. To slice open his wrist or his leg or his neck. Every time it hurts. Every time he bleeds.

The horn sounds.

This time he doesn’t pick up the sword.

*

He yields. (“Lovely day for it.”)

He surrenders.(“Lovely day for it.”)

He begs.(“Lovely day for it.”)

Anything for Brienne’s life. Anything.

But he has nothing to give but his life and he has given it a hundred times over.

And it is not enough.

Because every time he steps out into the sunlight ready to die Brienne is there to stop him.

She yields alongside him.

Or she refuses to kill him.

Or she appeals to the queen’s better nature. Asks for mercy and receives death instead. Death the queen relishes in having Jaime witness.

Every time Brienne tries to stop him from doing what must be done, she dies.

And Brienne must not die here.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

It dawns on him with gut-wrenching finality that they have to fight. That must be it. They must fight and Brienne must win.

Brienne has to kill him. It’s the only way he can think of to make this stop. He has died every other way. But every time he does it’s a lovely day for it again.

The horn sounds.

Jaime does not wait for the guards to tell him to move.

It has been a long time since he picked up the sword with the intention to wield it.


	2. Chapter 2

This time when Jaime enters the dragonpit he walks almost all the way across it to Brienne. He needs to be close enough to stop her from yielding when she will try to. He will make this quick. She needs to kill him as soon as she can.

The queen has barely announced the festivities when Jaime raises his sword to the ready, stepping to close the distance between them as Brienne stares at him. She watches him with a devastating mixture of confusion and recognition but he does not stop. He just engages her in combat like her life depends on it.

They must fight.

They must.

They must fight and he must lose so that Brienne lives.

Across from him Brienne instinctively raises her sword to meet his.

They’ve met in the dragonpit so many times.

But this is the first time they’ve crossed swords.

*

Brienne doesn’t want to kill him. That much is painfully clear. She blocks and parries with speed and skill, but she does not attack with purpose. With intent.

They’ve sparred with more intensity than this.

The queen must to come to the same conclusion because she puts an end to it with dragonfire before either of them realize what is happening.

*

The next time he is quick to set the tone, lashing out with a strike that could, if not kill, but seriously harm her.

Brienne steps and blocks. Swings her sword at him enough that he has to work get out of the way. But the way she’s looking at him… He’s seen her kill men before and she did not look like this. But she must kill him. Quickly.

Jaime is listening to the crowd as he and Brienne exchange lacklustre attacks, listening for any hint of the queen’s growing impatience, listening for the queen to signal her dragon. It caught him off guard last time. They were just starting to get into it and then they were dead.

He must be smarter than that. He needs—

He’s been so focused on what the queen is doing that he’s neglected to put his full attention into the fight.

That he hears the queen order their deaths this time is small consolation.

He sees the exact moment Brienne realizes what is happening because her eyes widen at the command for dragonfire but before he can think she’s turned away from him and positioned herself between him and the dragon, Oathkeeper held steady in both of her hands.

The last thing Jaime sees is Brienne facing the incoming dragonfire head on, her sword raised.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Brave is too small a word for what Brienne is.

Brienne turned to face the dragon without hesitation.

He is so desperately unworthy of her. He must be the one to die. He must.

The horn sounds.

He must convince her it is for the best to kill him. He deserves it. He will have to convince her. That’s all.

As soon as the fight begins he confesses an endless stream of atrocities he has committed. Reprehensible things he has done. Things he has stood by and watched happen. Things he has done with his own hands (back when he had two). Things he has done since. He confesses to every crime the queen accused him of and countless more. He is as hateful as Cersei was and he needs Brienne to know it. His guilt is certain. Absolute. Brienne would be doing everyone a favour if she killed him here and now.

“Are you quite through?” Brienne asks as they trade blows and Jaime has been reduced to listing petty indiscretions of his youth. She looks irritated, but far from being ready to kill him.

He doesn’t know what to say in the face of her confrontation and falls silent, sliding into the rhythm of their fight as easily as he did when they sparred up in the north. It is comforting, as much as he wishes it wasn’t.

“Even if everything you say is true,” Brienne says after a long stretch of quiet between them, “And you are as hateful and cruel as you seem determined to convince me, death offers neither justice nor absolution.”

“The gods disagree.”

There’s a grimace on Brienne’s face before she replies, “Then let us see what they decide.”

*

They fight for a while longer after that but it is not enough.

The queen and her dragon decides for them both.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He’ll just tell her. She has to kill him. That’s it. She has to kill him. He will tell her so.

The horn sounds and he picks up the sword and runs at her, catches her sword with his, holds the block position and explains, “You have to kill me. Quickly, before the queen decides to kill us both.”

“A trial by combat need not be to the death,” Brienne says, “If I yield—”

“She will kill you.”

She shoves him away and tries to prove him wrong.

The queen kills them both.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime has a new plan. If he startles her right away she might react on instinct and harm him in the process. That would be for the best. It would be almost an accident then. He will bleed out slowly enough to absolve her of her guilt at doing what must be done and the queen will see Brienne kill him and he will die and Brienne will live.

It does not go as planned.

She reacts on instinct, but she does him no harm. Within seconds they have fallen into their usual pattern.

They do not speak but their shared history bleeds from them as they circle each other, waiting for the next move to be made.

It is not the blood the queen craves.

And the queen will have his blood one way or another.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

So Jaime tries again.

“Lovely day for it.”

And again.

“Lovely day for it.”

And again.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The sound of Brienne screaming until she couldn’t anymore echoes in his skull. If he was allowed the luxury of rest, of sleep, of a break from this, he is certain it would haunt his dreams.

Perhaps it is a mercy that he is denied that here. There is so little time to dwell upon what has happened before it is happening again.

The horn sounds.

*

He foregoes the sword and attacks her with his bare hand. Brienne is holding a sword. If she would just hold it out in front of her that would be enough to end this.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”

*

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Jaime snaps when Brienne refuses to kill him once again.

“Don’t be so stupid,” she fires back, “It’s hardly a graze. You don’t need to be put out of your misery over that.”

Jaime sighs at the sky, knowing she’s right about the minor injury she gave him, while also knowing she’s fundamentally wrong, “This is my execution. There is no need to prolong it.”

“This is your trial,” Brienne insists.

They’ve discussed this before.

They will discuss it again.

*

“You should be angry with me,” Jaime says after they have been fighting for a little while.

“I am angry with you.”

“Then why won’t you—”

“Because I don’t want you to die!” she’s incensed she has to explain this to him, the words bursting from her amongst a flurry of fresh attacks, “Being angry doesn’t mean I wish you dead.”

*

“Why are you here?” Jaime spits after his fifth attempt to fail to block one of her attacks leaves him uninjured and still very much alive. He left her in the north. She was safe there. Their swords clash and the crowd roars its approval. She is not safe here. She is not safe here and she is not keen to kill him so he needs to know why so he can start to change her mind.

“No one else would fight for you.”

If it was possible to die from exasperation he would.

“You’re my _opponent_ ,” Jaime says, “Not my champion.”

“You have done nothing but try and die by my hands since the moment you stepped into the dragonpit,” Brienne replies with uncanny perception that she will never know the extent of. Her face is set but her frustration is palpable, “Don’t think I have not noticed.”

He does not deny it. “I must be the one to die.”

“A trial by combat need not be to the death.”

“This one will be.”

“Don’t be so certain.”

But he is.

And he is right.

*

“Why are you here?” the question keeps escaping from him as he attacks hard from the get go, as if he could just pull the right answer from her he’d unlock the key to getting her to agree to kill him. 

“You charged me to defend the innocent.”

Their swords meet and retreat.

“I am not innocent!”

Again and again.

“You stand accused of treason for murdering a king,” Brienne explains to him as if he hasn’t heard the queen announce this a hundred times, as if there’s any way Jaime does not know why he is here, “Is anyone more fit to judge you for that crime than me?”

“No,” he concedes, followed by a moody slash of his sword.

*

“Why are you here?” He waited longer this time to ask her. His blood is humming with the adrenaline of it all. Hers must be too. Maybe her answer will reflect that. Bring out the anger he so rightly deserves. The anger that will save her.

Brienne just says, “I want you to live.”

“Brienne.”

She dodges his jab and returns her sword to the ready, stepping with care to keep him centred in her focus as she says, “That is why I am here. When this trial is over, even if you never wish to see me again, I want you to live.”

Somehow it is that simple for Brienne.

She wants him to live.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime needs to die.

That is why he’s here.

The horn sounds.

Brienne wants him to live.

That is why she’s here.

She wants him to live.

*

Jaime grunts in exertion, determined not to enjoy any part of this. But when they move together and it’s almost as it was the time they were allowed to fight alongside one another… Back when they were so certain the army of the dead would take them both but they fought against the tide anyway. They fought together and they prevailed together. When it feels like that between them, those fleeting moments of before bleeding into now, when he looks at her and she looks at him and—

It is not kindness in her eyes, but it is not hatred either. And he knows… he knows if the queen sees anything less than ruthless intent Brienne is dead. He does not deserve her kindness in even the smallest measures. He not deserve her kindness and it is not helpful. Her mixed feelings towards him do him no good.

She has to kill him.

Every time he enters the dragonpit that is what he focuses on.

Brienne has to kill him.

And he needs to figure out how to make her do it.

That’s not why she’s here. (She wants him to live). But he must find a way around that.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”

*

If he only had a little more time. If he found himself being awoken by the sound of a sword clanging against the bars of his cell this morning he would have so many more paths to create. Countless more opportunities to die before he got anywhere near Brienne. If he had more time at his disposal he could figure out some way to make sure she never set foot in the dragonpit. He could get a message to Tyrion, surely one of the guards would grant him such a request, or else Jaime could convince them to. He could get a message to Tyrion to keep Brienne out of the dragonpit. That way she wouldn’t be here waiting for him. Like she is now.

The horn sounds.

It’s already too late.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

They have to fight and she has to kill him. She has to want to kill him. Even though she does not.

Brienne has good reason to want him dead. Not the reasons Daenerys Targaryen wants him dead. Not the reasons most of people of the seven kingdoms want him dead. Not the reasons the Starks want him dead.

No.

She knows all of those. She knew all of those before today. She knew the worst of him and loved him anyway.

When the horn sounds Jaime runs for the sword determined to remind Brienne of every reason she has to remove him from this world herself.

*

He doesn’t wait for the queen to say her piece. Not a single part of it. He just attacks, trusting Brienne to stop him.

Which she does.

When she doesn’t attack hard enough in return he mocks her. For her form. For her weakness. For her kindness. For daring to meet him in a trial by combat. Spits an endless stream of insults that puts the way he spoke to her on the early part of their journey south to shame. And when that doesn’t provoke her to the action he craves he says the worst things he can think of. Impossibly cruel, untrue things he knows she fears, preying on her insecurities with targeted precision. All the while he attacks erratically, enough to leave her plenty of opportunities to put him in his place.

He did not want to resort to this, but he has tried everything else to get Brienne to kill him. And Brienne must kill him. She must. So he insults her again and again.

The worst part is she barely reacts.

She blocks. She parries. She falls in step with him. But she does not anger. She does not rise.

She just listens to everything he says, her expression impassive as she deflects the blows of his sword but never his words.

Her eyes betray her, but she refuses to let him see beyond what she cannot contain.

He has hurt her and he continues to hurt her and he hates himself for all of it but if she would just let it out. Just attack like he knows she is capable of. And it has to be soon. Jaime can feel the queen’s restless impatience at the lack of progress and he knows it is only a matter of time before the queen ends this farce once and for all.

“I left you,” Jaime pleads. His arm and throat are sore from attacking her in every way he can and he feels no closer to death at her hands. She has to fight him. She has to hate him. She has to kill him.

Brienne shifts her stance slightly, her sword perfectly balanced in her grip as she looks right at him and calmly says, “I knew you would.”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime is still reeling.

The way she said it.

_I knew you would._

She knew he would leave her. She knew he would leave her even as she begged him to stay.

He’d nearly dropped his sword as he stumbled out of fighting stance, unable to do more than stare at her.

_I knew you would._

His mind races. How could she say such a thing and mean it? How could she know such a thing? He did not know himself. Did she really know? Did she think so little of him even then? Did she just say the thing that would hurt him most, the way he had been trying to hurt her for the duration of their fight? Or did she truly know all along and he proved her right…

_I knew you would._

Their time in Winterfell. After. After the battle but before the next one. The one in the south he felt he needed to return for… they had not discussed the future. Not once.

Not even tomorrow.

When he found his way to her bed, night after night, she never… she never even so much as said aloud that she expected him to be there the following morning.

But he was. Every morning and every night.

Until he wasn’t.

_I knew you would._

*

The horn sounds.

He picks up the sword without noticing he is doing so, Brienne’s words still haunting his every step.

_I knew you would._

He engages her in combat.

_I knew you would._

*

He says nothing at all.

They fight and they die together without a word exchanged between them.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

They fight until they are sloppy and imprecise without saying much of anything at all. He nicks her leg and she stumbled back and bleeds.

She bleeds.

He lowers his sword and apologizes without thinking.

It costs them their lives.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

They fight. Jaime does not know what to say so he says nothing at all.

Brienne knew he would leave her.

Brienne wants him to live.

Both are true.

He says nothing and then Brienne says, “I do not intend to kill you.”

Jaime still doesn't know what to say, but he wishes she would tell him something he did not already know.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

“I do not intend to kill you,” Brienne tells him, after he once again remains silent as they fight.

Jaime knows, but gods how he wishes she would.

*

“I do not intend to kill you,” Brienne tells him again. If they fight for long enough. If Jaime holds his tongue and says nothing at all as they fight, pouring all his energy into keeping the two of them engaged in combat that looks vicious enough to be deadly, this is always the first thing Brienne says to him.

“You should kill me,” Jaime replies, “And you should want to.”

There is only the sound of their blades meeting between them. The crowd seems very far away. This is as close to silence as Jaime remembers.

“I do not hate you Jaime.”

He steps back, meaning to answer, to convince her why she should, but she stops him.

“I hate what you did. What you chose to do,” her voice does not waver as she says it but he hears the pain in her voice as acutely as he did when he rode away from her, “But I understand.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You do not,” Jaime insists, the sun is high in the sky, sweat is running into his eyes, “She told me she was carrying my child.”

Brienne’s next strike is more powerful than any she’s aimed at him so far. He feels the strength of it reverberating through his arm after he manages to deflect it.

“Was she?”

He hesitates.

He does not know. He does not know if Cersei was telling him the truth about this. He will never know if Cersei was telling him the truth about this.

“I believed her.”

That much is true.

Across from him Brienne is watching him. Watching him and not attacking though his guard is down.

He realizes this too late to do anything before the fire comes.

*

“I do not intend to kill you,” Brienne says as they circle one another again.

Jaime all but screams in frustration. Stubborn infuriating Brienne. Anyone else would kill him for what he’s done without second thought. “I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he snaps as he surges forward. He needs her righteous anger. He needs her to kill him as he so justly deserves.

“I do not offer it.”

Then why? Why is she here? Why does she want him to live? Why is she, his opponent in his trial by combat, refusing to kill him no matter what he does?

“Forgiveness is not a requirement for mercy,” Brienne says.

They’ve been talking and not fighting and the queen is on her feet. It’s already too late for them this time.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime needs to make Brienne understand that her mercy will get her killed.

*

“I left you,” Jaime says. Brienne does not respond but he knows. He knows she knew he would, “I dishonoured you and I left you and I do not deserve your mercy. Please, Brienne, we both know I do not deserve mercy from anyone, least of all you. End this while you can.”

He lowers his sword, giving her the opportunity to strike. She must take it.

She does not.

*

“I left you.”

“I knew you would.”

It hurts as much as it did the first time. The seventh time. Every time he hears it loop in his head when she looks at him, but he says it again because this is why, this is why she should kill him, this must be how he gets her to kill him, “I left you.”

“You did.” She doesn’t look like she wants to kill him.

“I left you.” Jaime doesn’t understand why this isn’t working.

“Even when you left, I wanted you to live. I prayed that you would. That the gods would spare you. I hate what you did, but I did not want you to die. I still do not.”

“But I left you…” When he left Cersei she wanted him dead.

Brienne is not Cersei.

Brienne wants him to live.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day…”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

He picks up the sword and strides across the dragonpit to meet Brienne. If he walks fast enough the queen cuts her opening remarks down considerably, a mercy for everyone, but for Jaime especially, who has heard her proclaim his crimes so many times he can recite them from memory. If he walks fast enough the queen’s announcement of Ser Brienne of Tarth rolls directly into the crowd’s lust for a fight without lingering on their shock that she is a woman.

If he can spare himself the queen’s remarks and spare Brienne the unkind murmurs of their audience, he will.

So he does.

It seems he can do little else for her.

*

He tries something else this time.

“Cersei is dead.” He has not uttered his sister’s name here, but this time he does, speaking it as bluntly as Tyrion did when he told him of their sister’s fate.

“I’m sorry.” The worst part is it sounds like she means it. Like she regrets someone as hateful as Cersei is dead on his behalf, and that is the last thing Jaime wants right now.

“That is not what I—” Jaime can feel death breathing down his neck at his failure to explain this properly but he tries again, he has nothing to lose, it is too late regardless, “She always said we would die together.”

There’s bitterness in his voice he did not intend, but it solidifies in him the moment he acknowledges it. He should have died with Cersei. He should have died with her because if he died with Cersei like he was supposed to Brienne would be safe. None of this would be happening and Brienne would be safe.

“She was wrong.”

Brienne told him he did not have to die with Cersei. Before he left. Right before he left. As he was leaving. As she was begging him to stay, that was what she told him. She told him he did not need to die with Cersei.

He had not believed her.

And as the queen rises to her feet and calls out to her dragon once again, Jaime still does not believe her.

He was supposed to die with Cersei.

He was supposed to die with Cersei so he does not die with Brienne.

*

His sword glances off hers at a strange angle and hits her arm above the elbow and she stumbles and takes half a step back.

“I’ve hurt you,” Jaime says.

She shakes her head. It didn’t draw blood. She is uninjured. But Jaime has hurt her. He cannot stop thinking about it. When he sat in that dungeon for days on end that was nearly all he thought of. How he hurt her. So he says it again. That he has hurt her. Because he has. He has hurt her. He did not want to, but he has.

This time she understands. She understands and she does not deny it. “Yes. You have.”

“For that, and everything else, I apolo—”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

He aims a solid jab towards her torso, drawing Brienne into combat and cutting off the queen’s opening monologue all in once motion.

The first thing Jaime says to Brienne this time is, “I’m sorry.”

The first thing Brienne says to him this time is, “Fuck you!”

*

“I have no excuses for what I did.”

Brienne doesn’t answer, but the frequency of her attacks increases.

*

"Lovely day for it."

The horn sounds.

“Brienne I am—”

She cuts him off by nearly cutting him in half, “We don’t have to discuss it.”

He wants to apologize. He needs to apologize.

“We can discuss it after,” Brienne says as her sword smacks against his, “This isn’t the time or place.”

This is the only time and place.

"Lovely day for it."

*

“Cersei said she was carrying my child,” he says. It is not an excuse. It is not an explanation. He should have told Brienne sooner. There would have been rumours. Maybe she already suspected the truth. Not that Jaime knows the truth now. He thought he did. He had believed Cersei. He had to… he had to try and save…

“Was she?”

The child, if there even was a child, was innocent. They did not deserve the end they met. He had to…

“I believed her,” he says, but it feels like he’s saying ‘I fucked her’. Both are true. Brienne knows both are true. He fucked Cersei and he believed her when she said she was carrying his child and then he left her and went north and then he went back because Cersei was going to die and she always said they were going to die together and—

"Lovely day for it."

*

When he explains that Cersei told him she was carrying his child, Brienne always asks if she was. Every time she asks if it was true.

And every time Jaime does not know. Every time he tells her he believed Cersei when she told him. But when he returned… when he returned she did not appear to be…

“But you doubt her now?” Brienne asks this time, her sword gleams in the sunlight and she shifts her weight to mirror him.

“It does not matter,” Jaime says, “She is dead.”

But it matters.

Jaime wishes it didn’t.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He’s made a real mess of an apology. Again. But he has to fucking try.

“You do not need to apologize,” Brienne says, not quite looking at him, “You told me from the beginning you do not choose who you love. And you—”

“Don’t—” he warns, and he fucking means it, “Don’t fucking say it.”

The idea of Brienne telling him that he loved Cersei. Like that explains what he did to Brienne. Like she knew it was inevitable. Gods, he can’t fucking stand it.

That doesn’t make it entirely untrue, he’s not stupid, but he does not want his actions explained away with a word so simple as love.

Because maybe love isn’t supposed to feel like what Cersei took from him his whole life.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Every time it is the same.

Jaime must die.

Brienne will not kill him.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“Don’t forgive me,” Jaime says, “Just know that I am sorry. For everything.”

“I’m not here for your apologies!” Brienne insists as she drives him back.

“You will listen to them all the same!” Jaime says as he pivots and she follows him. She always did move well with a sword in her hand, “You deserved far better than the likes of me and for that I apologize.”

“Do not tell me what I deserve,” Brienne warns as Oathkeeper just misses his shoulder before she comes at him again, fury pouring from her every move.

Jaime almost smiles. They will live a little longer today.

They will live a little longer and if he is very lucky, only he will die.

*

This time Brienne dies first, then him.

“Lovely day for it.”

It is said there are seven hells.

The horn sounds.

Surely this is his.

*

“Brienne I am…”

“What are you doing?” Brienne hisses.

“I’m apologizing.”

“I did not come here for an apology!”

He knows. He knows why she’s here. “But you deserve one.”

*

“Don’t—” she cuts him off as the tip of her blade passes thrillingly close to his neck, “Apologize for that.”

“Brienne, I owe you many apol—”

“Not for that,” she repeats, “Not for what came before.”

Before.

He tries not to dwell on what came before as they continue to fight, as they fall into step with each other like they were always meant to and silently agree to pick up the pace. He does not succeed.

She aims a quick slash at his left side and says, “I do not regret loving you.”

“You should,” Jaime insists, moving his sword to meet hers, marvelling at the way she turns into block and adapts to press her attack, “You have every reason to.”

“I knew you would lea—”

“Did you?” he asks, unable to stop himself, “Did you truly believe I would?”

She does not speak for a long time.

Then she says, “I hoped you wouldn’t.”

But he did.

He left.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

Forgiveness is not on the table. That is not why she is here. She is not here to forgive him for what he has done.

He apologizes to her regardless. She deserves to hear him say how sorry he is for what he has done. For where they are. For the fact that one of these times he will die and she will live and that will be that.

So he apologizes.

Every time he finds a way to apologize.

She does not forgive him. He does not seek her forgiveness.

He speaks the words all the same.

Because one of these times he is going to succeed. One of these times he will die and she will live. And she deserves his apologies for that and for the worst of what came before.

So he finds the moment to apologize.

Their swords clang and clatter and he apologizes.

Every time.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day…”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

They fight. He apologizes. It is not about forgiveness. It is never about forgiveness. He does not seek it. She does not offer it. But he apologizes all the same.

The conversations are similar, but never the same. Just as the fight is different every time. The same topics come up, but in different ways, in different orders.

There is no one path through this conversation. No single way to apologize. There is no right way to say what he must.

And then he tries to convince her to kill him. And she won’t.

And then they die.

Over and over and over.

*

“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day for it.”  
“Lovely day…”

*

He must be getting closer to the end. To getting her to kill him. Progress is slow on this front. If he is too eager to die right from the start she shuts him down immediately when he suggests it.

But when he waits. When they fight and talk and fight and he apologizes and they keep fighting and only then does he point out that he must be the one to die, Brienne shuts him down immediately.

“Lovely day for it.”

But he keeps trying because it keeps starting again. And it keeps starting again because she must live. He must be the one to die. Which means she needs to kill him.One way or another, she will. He just has to figure out how.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

They fight and he muddles through another imperfect apology and she does not forgive him and they keep fighting and he doesn’t mention that she needs to kill him to live. Usually he would. This is when he usually does but this time he doesn’t.

The fight goes on.

*

She’s got him pinned to the ground, straddling his torso as she holds his left arm down at the wrist. Their fight has never gotten to this point before. Never before has the queen allowed them to continue this long. Brienne had landed a decent hit earlier, more decent than she intended he’s certain. Between the wound and her grip on his forearm, his whole left arm is practically useless. He is all but helpless beneath her.

Good.

He fights against the memory of the last time she was atop him like this as he continues to make it look like he’s struggling. He pushes his stump up into her face, clumsy and pointless, but enough to make her have to turn her head to avoid it, to adjust her grip, to slam his head back against the ground.

Not hard enough. But close.

Brienne is exhausted. He can feel her trembling with fatigue. With the injuries she has sustained. She’s in better shape than he is, but not by much.

Perhaps.

Perhaps she has done enough to not have to be the one to kill him if he yields—

The hand that’s not on his left wrist clamps over his mouth with brutal force as she leans down and says through clenched teeth, “Don’t you dare.”

He wants to protest but he can’t. He tries to push her hand with his stump but she tightens her hold, her fingers digging into his cheek as she keeps her palm pressed over his mouth. He thrashes beneath her as if trying to throw her off, hoping to distract her as he continues to paw at her hand. If she just moves her hand enough to cover his nose as well…

“No,” she growls, leaning her face down closer to his and he knows she knows exactly what he’s trying to do, but she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand, “I’m going to save you.”

She sounds so certain. Is so certain. That she can save him. Still.

“Jaime,” she says, the anger in her voice is gone and all that remains is soft and reassuring, though her grip on him is unrelenting, “You will live to see tomorrow.”

It breaks him.

She doesn’t know. She has no idea. She has no idea. She has no idea how hard he’s worked to get them this far. This close. This is as close as they have ever been to the end.

And she still believes he can survive this.

By the time she lifts her hand away from his mouth his anguished laughter has swung into sobs, his whole body convulsing beneath hers with the truth of it. With the horror of knowing that even now, as close as they have ever been to her defeating him in combat, she’s still trying to save him.

Just as he’s trying to save her.

She looks alarmed. Openly concerned. He knows he must look unhinged, coming undone at the seams beneath her, crying because there is nothing else for him to do but die for her but she won’t fucking let him.

The order comes and Brienne, oh gods _Brienne_. It never gets easier to watch her understand that the queen will kill them the moment they will not kill each other. The moment she shows mercy or care. Brienne glances up at the dragon taking aim for only a fraction of a moment before she looks back at him, shock and fear giving way to some form of understanding, some form of peace, as she moves to cover him. 

She shields his body from the flames as best she can.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

How is he supposed to carry on, knowing exactly how Brienne sounds as she apologizes to him for failing him right before they die? He is the one who has failed her a hundred different ways she knows about and at least a thousand variations upon ones she will never know of. He has failed her. And in the end she will try to protect him from the worst of what is coming, even when she knows she can’t.

The horn sounds but Jaime can’t pull himself away from what he just experienced. The feel of Brienne’s arms around him at the end, holding him, shielding him. Like he is worthy of her protection. Even now, as he fails her and fails her and fails her.

They’ve died together so many times.

But never quite like that.

*

When Jaime walks towards her he’s overcome by the need to stop this. This has to stop. He cannot let this continue a moment longer.

He draws her into combat like he always does. He’s done this enough times to know this is the only way to live long enough to have time to speak with her.

Because he needs to speak with her. He needs to tell her what is happening to him. She needs to understand that he lives his trial over and over and over.

And Brienne needs to understand that it will not stop until she kills him.


	3. Chapter 3

“I have been here before!” Jaime exclaims. Like an idiot.

“As have I,” Brienne replies because he is an idiot. Like he could possibly have forgotten that they have encountered each other in the dragonpit before. Like the time they met here before meeting here for his trial was all Jaime does didn’t shake him to his foundation. The two of them on different sides of a war, Brienne grabbing his arm as he walked away from her, urging him to do things he thought impossible, the things he felt were right…

“No,” Jaime says, adjusting his hold on his sword as he tries to focus, “What I’m trying to say is—”

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“It’s true!” Jaime says, sounding like a liar though he has spoken nothing but truth, “Every time we die I return to the holding room and I’m sent back out here to face you again!”

She doesn’t believe him.

*

He tries to tell her what’s happening to him. Every time it starts again he tries to explain.

It does not go well.

She doesn’t believe him. The more he tries to explain, the less she believes.

And then they are dead.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“I live this day, and only this day, over and over.”

She doesn’t believe him.

*

“I knew you were going to be here! I knew you were to be my opponent because—”

“Anyone could have told you that. A guard. Your brother. The queen herself. She made no secret of it.”

“But I knew because I’ve done this before!”

She doesn’t believe him.

*

Jaime focuses on fighting her for a long time. Many many times they fight and then they die. But when they fight, they talk, and somewhere in there he will figure out how to tell her what is going on. What is happening to him. Just as he finds ways to apologize he will find a way to explain. He tries as often as he can, but she doesn’t believe him. But he keeps trying because when she believes him… when she believes him she will understand why she must be the one to kill him.

*

“I’ve lived through this before,” Jaime tries once again, after they've fought and talked and he has apologized and she has not forgiven him and they are still fighting, “This day. I’ve lived this day countless times.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Shoves him away from her and aims a strike at his shoulder.

“I have,” he says, trying to sound truthful but not desperate. She doesn’t believe him.

She never believes him.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

They fight. They talk.

He tries to tell her.

She does not believe him.

They die.

He wishes he was numb to the experience, but he is not.

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She…

*

They stumble away from one another and Brienne is not quick to reengage him, trusting him not to harm her as she wipes the sweat from her brow.

“Brienne! You must listen to me,” Jaime says urgently, “If we do not look like we’re about to kill each other any moment the queen kills us both.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brienne says, “Trial by combat customs dictate—”

“I’m telling you,” Jaime says, panic setting in because too many seconds have passed and Brienne truly believes that they are safe from the queen’s wrath, “She—”

The queen is on her feet, speaking the dragon’s name. The dragon moves to the ready above them.

Jaime shouts and dives at Brienne. His tackle catches her off guard and they smash to the ground in a heap.

“Brienne,” he says as he tries to make sense of what’s happened. They are not yet dead. The dragonfire has not yet come. His sword is no longer in his hand. He looks to the left and sees it a few feet away in the dirt, “Hit me! Now!”

“Jaime—” she sounds disoriented. He hopes she didn’t hit her head when they landed.

“Brienne you have to hit me!” Jaime says, frantic to make her understand as he scrambles to make it look like he’s going for her throat, like he’s trying to kill her, “She will kill us if you don’t!”

“The queen. The dragon…” she says as she watches him, as she watches him but does not fight him, “You knew.”

“Yes!” he says, “I knew! Which is how I know you must hit me now!”

Brienne smacks him across the face and Jaime is so fucking thankful she hit him in the direction that turns his head towards the royal viewing area because that means he has an excuse to watch the queen react.

Daenerys Targaryen seems satisfied for the moment. She sits back down. The dragon does not bring death just yet.

Jaime turns away from the queen and reaches for his sword, knowing his arms are not long enough. It puts him off balance and Brienne hooks her leg over his and flips them over, pinning him beneath her.

She gets her hand to his throat and yells like she’s trying to kill him but she’s not squeezing, not pressing down. He kicks and struggles as if she is as she leans closer.

“Swear to me.”

He swears to the old gods and the new that he’s been here before. That he lives his trial by combat again and again and again.

Then something new happens.

Brienne believes him.

*

Jaime has no idea what to do next.

Brienne asks him how many times. How long. How. Why. Questions. She has so many questions. So many questions and he has so few answers but she believes him. She believes him.

They try to keep up the pretence that they are fighting tooth and nail, trying to kill each other with their bare hands because their swords are out of reach but that only works for so long before the crowd roars.

He and Brienne both look to the queen at the same moment. The queen is once again on her feet. The dragon shifts to take aim.

Brienne looks back down at him, “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he lies.

“Liar.”

“It is quick,” he says. This is the only thing he can think of to reassure her.

She nods once. Says his name. He’s never heard her say his name like that before.

“You die bravely. With honour,” he tells her, “Every time.”

Her voice shakes as she whispers, “Not this time.”

He reaches up to touch her face, hoping he gets to brush the tear from her cheek with his thumb before the dragonfire hits as he says, “Every time.”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime steadies himself as best he can. Brienne was terrified. Absolutely terrified. He’s died with her so many times and she’s never been so afraid. Not once.

But she believed him. Brienne believed him. He explained what was happening and Brienne believed him.

She believed him.

He tries to remember everything that happened. Everything that happened before she believed him. He has to do it all again. He has to figure out exactly how it happened. She believed him. She believed him and he must…

The horn sounds.

She will believe him again.

*

But when he steps out into the sunlight to face her, when the crowd jeers at the sight of him, when she looks at him like she’s about to yield and he springs forward to make sure she doesn’t, he is extremely aware of the difference. She is not afraid yet. Not the way she will be when she knows he’s lived this before. When she knows they will die.

His hesitation oozes into his swordplay and the dragonfire hits so fast neither of them see it coming.

*

Jaime tries to have her kill him without telling her again. A few times. Probably too many times. If he can spare her what it means to know what he knows, he will. But he can’t.

He can’t.

So he has to tell her.

Brienne has to know.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He must figure out how to make her believe him again.

“Lovely day for it.”

He must.

“Lovely day for it.”

Because it is the only way she will agree to kill him.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

It takes many more attempts to get her to believe him again.

It fucks him up just as much as it did the first time because she only believes him when they are about to die. When it is too late to prevent it.

When there is nothing he can do but try and comfort her before the end.

*

She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.   
She believes him, but they burn a split second later.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.   
She believes him, they burn less than a minute later.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She almost believes him.   
She does not believe him.   
She believes him, she asks him two questions before the end.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not believe him.   
She does not…

*

As far as Jaime can tell, this is the sequence of events he must recreate:

After. After “Lovely day for it” and the horn sounds and then they fight and talk and he apologizes and fight enough to stay alive as they have countless times.

After that, and during their ongoing swordplay, he has to tell her what is happening. (She will not believe him.)

He has to tell her that if they do not fight hard enough the queen will kill them on the spot. (She will not believe him.)

The queen must move to command her dragon. Brienne must see that is what is happening and why. Jaime must stop the queen from following through on killing them. (Brienne might start to believe him.)

The problem is this: When Brienne starts to believe him she is in shock at his revelation. She asks questions but he always has to remind her to fight him, to look like she’s trying to kill him.

The problem is this: They have to be so close to death by dragonfire that it is often too late to stop, or else he tackles her to the ground and they find it hard to get back on their feet to keep fighting afterwards.

The problem is this: It all happens so fast she barely has time to ask the first of many questions she has. It happens so fast he barely has time to reassure her when the terror sets in. It happens so fast he has yet to tell her she has to be the one to kill him.

He has to figure out how to get them off the ground or not have to put them there in the first place and still have her believe him. Then they will have time for the rest.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She believes him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She believes him.  
She does not believe him.  
She believes him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She believes him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She believes him.  
She believes him.  
She does not believe him.  
She…

*

He’s getting good at it. He manages to get Brienne to believe him almost a quarter of the time.

Exactly two of those occurred when they were still standing or close enough to it to return to their fight and fall back into rhythm of it without the queen killing them.

Two. Out of he has no idea how many attempts.

But on two occasions Brienne believed him and they had enough time to talk about it for a while before they died.

So that’s something.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime puts conscious effort into staying on his feet against the urge to faint or throw up.

When she believes him right before the end it is harder. Jaime has only moments to put Brienne’s dying words from his mind before the horn sounds. Only moments to wrench himself free from the look in her eyes, the feel of her arms around him. Only moments to pack the experience away with all of the other horrors they’ve shared in this dragonpit somewhere it won’t interfere with what he has to do.

The horn sounds.

*

She believes him.

She believes him and they’re on their feet and she asks, “How long has this been happening?”

A variation of this is almost always the first question she asks and he still has no good answer.

He never sought to keep track, but he knows it must be hundreds upon hundreds by now. But they rarely live for an hour before it starts again, and some of his early cycles were so brief… mere minutes before it was a lovely day for it again. He does not know how long he has been here. And when he is here the sun barely moves in the sky. He has not slept since this began (but he has always been woken from sleep only a few hours before).

Time does not exist for him as it does for her anymore. That much is clear every time he tries to answer. Brienne has days and nights. Fortnights and moons. Years even.

Jaime has “Lovely day for it” and a horn sounding and then he fights her and then they die.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“Is that what you do every time?” Brienne asks, after her usual questions about how many times he has lived and died in his trial, about where it begins, about what he knows.

“What do you mean?”

“To get me to believe you about what’s happening to you,” Brienne says.

“Usually.”

“Does it always work?”

Jaime almost laughs. He wonders if he is still capable of such a thing. He cannot recall the last time he laughed. Not since this started. Not since he returned to King’s Landing. Winterfell. It would have been in Winterfell, with Brienne.

But that gives him an idea.

“Tell me something only you know,” Jaime says, aiming low so she deflects and steps into her counter-attack.

“Why?”

“So when I come back. When it starts again, I can tell you it and when you ask me how I know it you’ll believe me sooner.”

Brienne thinks on it as they fight and before the dragonfire takes them from this world she tells him something she’s never told anyone before.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime mulls over what Brienne just told him as he waits for the horn to sound, determined to be able to repeat what she said back to her in her words exactly.

The horn sounds and he picks up the sword and engages Brienne in combat before the queen can get a word in edgewise.

*

Jaime tells Brienne he is living his trial over and over and then he tells her what she told him as proof. She does not believe him.

Not at all.

She just becomes defensive and upset, demanding to know who he’d interrogated about her and when he managed it as she slashes and hacks with her sword to keep him away from her.

“No one,” Jaime insists, “You told me!”

“I most certainly did not.”

She’s so distracted that the queen puts an end to their battle faster than she has in ages.

*

Jaime tries a few more times to be sure, but after several more spectacular failures it is clear Brienne does not take well to having him repeat her secrets back at her to try and gain her trust.

As Jaime stands in the holding room he realizes the fault in his method. The last time Brienne saw him he was riding away from her in the north. He has lost her faith so thoroughly. He was an idiot to think that a simple demonstration of trust would work to regain it.

If he wants Brienne to listen to him enough to believe him, to trust him on this one thing, he has to earn it.

Every single time.

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.

*

The conversation is never exactly the same. Just as the fight is never the same.

There are common beats and patterns to both, but it is not a routine Jaime can learn and recite.

So they fight, they talk, he apologizes, they fight, he tries to find a way to demonstrate that he’s been here before, she believes him or she does not believe him, she won’t kill him, and then they die.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

When she first believes him, when she looks at him and knows that he has been here before the questions start.

“How long?”

He does not know.

“How?”

He does not know.

“Why?”

Because she has to be the one to kill him, but he hasn’t figured out how to tell her that and have her believe him yet. And it is not for lack of effort on his part.

*

“If I yield right from the start—”

“She kills you,” he says, keeping his tone as light as he can. After the first series of broad questions Brienne starts asking about specific scenarios. She came into the dragonpit with a plan (she wants him to live) and she’s still determined to see a variation of it through. Jaime must make her see reason.

“What if I yield later in the fight—”

“She kills you.”

Brienne grimaces, then says, “Then I will not do that.”

“I appreciate it.”

*

“If you ask for mercy—” Brienne stops herself mid-question with no input from him, even though he had tried not to let his answer show on his face, “Don’t tell me.”

“I won’t.”

But all the same he wonders if she knows she’s willing to kneel and die alongside him.

He wonders if she understands that he knows that now. With absolute certainty.

*

“If you try to escape—”

“I die and it starts again.”

“What if we try and escape together?”

Jaime pauses. They’ve never tried that before.

*

They plan as best they can as they spar, quickly deciding that the entrance Brienne used to get into the dragonpit in their only chance. Jaime knows with certainty that the holding room he was in leads nowhere but another lovely day for it.

*

Every escape attempt ends in death. Never do they manage to leave the open area of the dragonpit. If they even get near the edges the archers rise to the ready as the queen commands the dragon to do the same. And beyond that it seems like a half an army is standing by to ensure they stay where they are supposed to.

The command for their death comes the moment they turn away from each other to work together.

The queen knew this was a possibility.

And she is ready for it.

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not…

*

He manages to jump back on the offensive in time to prevent the dragonfire just as he predicted and Brienne is looking at him and starting to believe and thank the gods for it. The times when she believes him and they have time to discuss it are much more enjoyable than the times she does not.

Partly because the conversation flows in ways it does not when they have only their history (he left her, she knew he would) and their conflicted interests (she wants him to live, he must die) to navigate. When they have the problem of him reliving of his trial to solve, strategy to discuss, they can speak about now without getting stuck and silent after he tries to apologize, when all that remains is the matter that she wants him to live and he must die.

But mostly because when she believes that he has lived his trial a thousand times already he has hope that this will be the time he convinces her to kill him and free them both from this hell.

(She doesn’t kill him. She never does. But one time she will. She must. He has to believe she will agree to soon. He has to…)

*

“How many times? she asks, “How many times have we fought like this?”

“Hundreds. Maybe a thousand. At least.”

“Just like this?” she asks, aiming a slash at him that forces him to step further left then he planned to avoid it, kicking up dirt as he does so.

Jaime almost smiles, “Never quite like this.”

*

“We die.” On the occasions she believes him, he says this to her many times over.

“How?”

“Dragonfire. It’s almost always dragonfire,” he says, determined to sound neutral. Factual. Like the matter of their deaths does not burn through him every waking moment.

“But not always.”

“No.”

They spar as he explains the different ways they have died. Where and how. By what means. He has just finished explaining about the archers lying in wait when Brienne says, “I’m sorry I could not save you the first time.”

The first time. It has been a long time since she died like that. Her head rolling towards him. The memory still turns his stomach, still makes him feel woozy, still makes him need to die to prevent it.

“Was it bad?” she asks.

Jaime nods and then stops because he’s already lightheaded. He will not tell her. She knows they die if she yields as she intends to. She does not need to know the details of how. (Her head. Rolling towards him.) The sword in his hand tremors as he raises it once again.

“Jaime I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he says, his voice strained and anxious. He cannot make his body move, “This is not your fault.”

The queen is on her feet.

“This is not your fault either,” Brienne says.

The crowd is cheering.

This is his fault.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She believes him but they die seconds later.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She…

*

“What happens if you prevail?” Brienne asks between the sound of the swords crashing together.

“What?”

“If you defeat me in combat. Then what?”

Jaime stutters then steps into the lie he needs to tell, “It starts again.”

She sees right through him, “You’ve never defeated me?”

“Not in combat.”

“Jaime—”

“Brienne!” he counters as he dodges her thrust, “Ask me what happens when you triumph in combat.”

“I don’t need to,” Brienne says, “I know.”

“You do not.”

“I do,” she replies, gods she is incredible with a sword in her hand, absolutely magnificent, “I know.”

“You do not,” Jaime repeats.

“And neither do you,” she says, “I will not kill you.”

Jaime sighs. Of course she knows, “No. You will not. Not even once. And I have tried everything I can think of to give you an opportunity you cannot refuse.”

“You need not sound so disappointed.”

“Brienne, it’s the only way.”

“It is not.”

“It is.”

“I will not kill you.”

“And I will not kill you.”

Brienne is quiet and so is he. The crowd is sounding restless so they make a point of stepping up their intensity for a few minutes without a word. Then she says, “I suppose we’ll have this conversation again.”

“We will,” Jaime replies, “When I’m fortunate.”The dance it takes to get her to start to believe him enough to start asking him questions about why he knows is still a challenge. Baiting the queen to call for the dragonfire at the time when the dragon takes a few moments to take aim, enough to get Brienne to see the immediate danger, but not enough so they die, is not an exact art. He can only make it happen about a third of the time. At his best. The rest of the time Brienne dies not knowing he’s been here with her hundreds of times before.

*

“What haven’t you tried?” Brienne asks after she has exhausted the first twenty or so ideas that come to her as they dance around each other.

He’s rarely hopeful, but this feels like a particularly unlikely way for Brienne to agree to kill him, but she asked so he answers, “You’ve never killed me.”

“And I will not.”

“Not even if—”

“No.”

Her answer hits him like dragonfire.

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

She believes him, after a long while. After two very close calls with death, she believes him. She believes him and now she’s thinking through their options for the first time. Again.

“We could try and reach the queen… stop the command before it comes.”

They die when they do that.

They’ve tried this at least a dozen times at her suggestion. They die every time. They die every time but they haven’t tried in a while and Brienne sounds so hopeful that Jaime agrees.

He agrees and they continue to spar, putting on a show as they plot out their best chance to reach the queen together.

Their attempt ends in their death, but it is not fire this time and that is almost a relief.

*

“If what was happening to you was happening to me. If I came out here and fought like I wanted you to kill me, if I stood here and told you we’d died a hundred times in this very spot trying to convince you to take my head, would you?”

“It’s not the same,” Jaime protests.

“It is exactly the same!”

“This is my execution, not yours.”

“Trial! This is your trial!” he feels his expression shift and Brienne frowns, “What?” 

“We’ve had this argument before,” he admits.

“How does it end?”

He tilts his head towards the dragon, “How it always does.”

*

“Perhaps…” Brienne says between the sound of their swords meeting and retreating again and again, “Perhaps if we defeat the dragon…”

“The dragon?”

“Have we tried that?”

“No,” Jaime answers truthfully.

*

It is a disaster. The queen knows Jaime is foolish enough to attack a dragon head-on if given half a chance so she has ensured he will not find the opportunity.

There is nothing he and Brienne can do to lure the dragon into the pit with them. (“Lovely day for it.”)

Nothing.(“Lovely day for it.”)

And they have tried everything they can think of to make it happen.(“Lovely day for it.”)

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.

*

“The dragon…” Brienne says once she’s exhausted every other logical idea she can come up with, “Perhaps if we defeat the dragon…”

“We’ve tried that.”

“Really?” She keeps position, holds her sword above her head to keep his from lowering any further as he tries to break her block with enough force to make her have to try to throw him off.

“It was your idea. Every time it’s your idea.”

“I suppose I don’t need to ask how it ends.”

No. She does not.

*

She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not believe him.  
She does not…..

*

“How many times?” Brienne asks.

It’s been too many attempts since the last time he was able to get her to ask him this question, he can’t bring himself to answer.

“More than fifty?” Brienne presses.

The sound he makes is hollow and unsettling, even to his own ears. Brienne’s attention seems to sharpen at his distress.

“More than that?”

“Yes.”

“Jaime… ”

“A thousand. At least.”

She lowers her guard, concern all over her face as she looks right at him and he has to look away because she sees him and he wants her to know what’s happening to him but he doesn’t want her to see what it’s doing to him because no good can come of it. No good can come of her knowing the extent of it. He shakes his head, trying to keep it together, to pull himself back together, to raise his sword, to attack, to do anything that isn’t stand here and realize what he has burdened her with.

But then Brienne asks, “Jaime… are you all right?”

This is the question that gets them killed.

*

“Brienne I…” How has he never told her this? Not once before today. Not once during all the times he has lived through this. He has never told her this. And he needs to tell her. He needs to tell her now. They are battle-weary, broken and bleeding and death is so close and, “Brienne I—”

“Don’t,” Brienne cuts him off, “Don’t talk to me like we’re about to die.”

“Brienne…”

They are about to die. They are indisputably about to die. They are always about to die. The queen is already on her feet.

“Don’t,” Brienne pleads, “Don’t say it.”

The queen gives her command.

He doesn’t say it.

*

“What if we—”

He feels the shift of the crowd, knowing it is too late for them this time. The queen will rise. Brienne will not kill him, so the dragonfire will. It is too late this time.

Brienne’s expression shifts in alarm, “Jaime?”

He shakes his head slightly. It is too late. It is too late.

The queen rises. Calls for their deaths.

Brienne lowers her sword as she steps towards him without so much as a glance at the dragon, “It’s all right. I will see you again.”

Brienne has the benefit of not remembering how much it hurts to die.

Jaime is not nearly so fortunate.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Her faith is almost worse than her fear.When she’s had more time to adjust to the idea that they’ve lived and died in this dragonpit countless times, she is comforted by it when the end comes. She tells him that she will see him again. That this isn’t the end. That she will be waiting for him when he comes back. That they will figure it out. That she will save them.

The horn sounds.

And she is right on most counts. He will see her again. There she is, waiting for him, just as she always is.

But this Brienne doesn’t yet know what the Brienne he just died with knew. And he has to be the one to convince her. Again and again.

And if he is fortunate, she will believe him.

She will believe that he’s been here before. She will believe he’s been here before and she will start trying to figure out how to make it stop once again.

But when it comes time to die she reaches for him and says they will figure it out the next time they see each other. That she will save him.

But she refuses to see that killing him and saving him are one and the same.

So they die together.

Again.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“We could try and escape. Try and get past the guards—”

Jaime shakes his head and Brienne pauses to consider him.

“We have tried that before,” she says.

“Yes.”

“And you know what happens.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Dragonfire,” he says like he doesn’t feel the sense-memory of it removing him from this world at the mere thought, “Or if we are very lucky, archers or guards.”

“And you know what happens if we yield.”

“Yes.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know you want me to live,” Jaime says, “Even if you never forgive me. Even if we never see each other again after today, you want me to live.”

They didn’t have this part of the conversation this time. They haven’t had this part of the conversation in ages because he knows why she’s here, and he gains nothing from trying to change that. So he finds a way to apologize to her, as he does each time, but he does not ask her why she’s here.

But he knows. He knows why Brienne is here with him.

Brienne does not speak for a time. Eventually she asks, “I’ve told you that?”

“Many many times.”

They are quiet for a long while, letting their swords do the talking, though for the life of him Jaime could not translate it into words.

“I suspect forgiveness is similar to love,” Brienne says carefully, “It is not something we choose.”

Jaime doesn’t know what to say to that.

Then she says, “I would prefer you live long enough for me to find out.”

His heart clenches. He would prefer that too, but he knows it cannot be. He will never leave this place. He will never leave this place because he will never be allowed to leave it alive and as long as Brienne wants him to live enough to die alongside him he will never leave this place at all.

This is his fate.

To be here with her in the dragonpit until they die.

And then he will do it again.

*

She doesn’t believe him this time. He cannot demonstrate the truth of the matter enough to convince her.

That is all right.

She does not suggest specific strategies for their survival the way she does when she believes him. She does not ask how many times he’s lived through his trial. She does not ask after him the way she does when she knows he has watched her die countless times.

But the Brienne in front of him, the Brienne who thinks this is his first time in the dragonpit with her, the first time he has raised his sword to hers, pulling her away from her plan to yield to save him.

She does not know she is about to die.

(But they are. And they do. “Lovely day for it.”)

*

Brienne believes him so early this time. As chance would have it, he told her what was happening and had the opportunity to demonstrate their circumstances before the sun was directly overhead. They’ve talked about most of the things that usually come up, but she’s known he’s lived through his trial countless times before almost the entire time.

She has exhausted her usual list of ideas to get him out of it. He can see her continuing to weigh their dwindling options as they spar at full intensity. When Brienne understands that certain death for both of them awaits if they hesitate she is more willing to engage in serious combat.

It is exhilarating.

“I wanted to marry you,” Jaime confesses. The sun is high in the sky as they draw the battle out, “I meant to ask you.”

They trade jabs, messy and imperfect. She catches his arm with the flat of her blade and it glances off his armour, “I would have said yes.”

Grief fills his chest for the version of him that had that opportunity. To ask her. To ask her to marry him.

Instead they are here.

They continue to fight. Hard enough to cause harm. Hard enough that they both find themselves bleeding from fresh injuries where they stand.

They continue to fight and fight (and bleed and bleed) and then he asks her to marry him.

*

“Jaime.”

“Brienne.”

He means what he says. He wanted to marry her. He still wants to marry her. If she will have him.

“Perhaps,” Brienne says slowly, drawing breath as she adjusts her grip on her sword, the hilt slick with her blood as they circle one another like they haven’t been brawling for the better part of an hour, “Perhaps after…”

How he wishes that could be so. But there is no after. There is only now. Exactly now. Exactly now and then death and then “lovely day for it” and then dancing until death once again.

He should stop talking. Let the idea that she would consider marrying him after be enough. It would be enough if he were not so certain they will never live to see it.

The words bleed from him. The audacious request that she marry him now. Here.

She’s looking at him the same way she always does when she starts to believe that he’s trapped in this day, like she’s torn between accepting the truth of his words and what it will mean if she does.

“Look at all the people gathered to witness us pledge our love,” he says. In another life he might sound sarcastic but right now all he has is sorrow and sincerity at his disposal.

What difference does it make if he makes a fool of himself? They will be dead within minutes and he will be on his feet at the beginning being told it is a lovely day for it a moment later no matter what he does.

Brienne is very still, “Have you ever asked me this before?”

“You know I haven’t,” Jaime says. Gods how he should have, but he never did.

“No I don’t,” Brienne replies and of course, she couldn’t possibly know that for certain.

“I have never asked you to marry me today,” Jaime clarifies, “Not once.”

“Then why now?”

“Because I want to.”

There is more he could say but that is the truth. He wants to marry her.

“Marry me Brienne,” he says again. He is so tired. The wounds she has inflicted upon him this time are serious enough that he leaves a bloody trail wherever he steps. Brienne does not look much better. It will not be long now before they cannot keep up the pace enough to stay alive. He drops his sword out of fighting stance and extends his stump towards her.

Brienne lowers her sword and steps forward to take his outstretched wrist.

*

“You won’t remember,” Jaime says as he lets his sword fall to the ground to better hold her hands. They must act quickly, but he needs to be sure she understands.

“I know,” Brienne says, her bloody hands are trembling in his, whether from nerves or exhaustion he cannot tell. Then she looks right at him and adds, “Perhaps this is how we survive.”

*

The crowd does not know what to do when Jaime boldly announces the change in entertainment as loud as he is able. But the queen does.

They get as far as “From this day” before their marriage ends in flames.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime is shaking. He can barely hold himself upright. Not fifty yards from here it happened. She married him. She married him. She married him.

Almost.

This is his only thought until the horn sounds.

Brienne stands where she always does when he enters the dragonpit. She’s looking at him like she always does at the beginning, resigned to the queen’s cruel design, ready to yield for him, ready to die for him.

His once-wife. His opponent. His soon-to-be executioner.

He wants to rush out to her and ask her again. He wants to try and marry her every time, now that he knows it is possible. That if they fight long enough. Fight in silence and in fragmented conversation and he apologizes and somewhere along the way he manages to convince her that he relives this day. If they fight and talk for long enough it is possible.

She might marry him again.

They might carve out enough time to finish saying their vows before death comes the next time. To pledge their love with a kiss…

He stops himself.

The dragon overhead. The dragonfire that took them both from this world as they spoke their vows.

If they marry here, they will surely die here.

And Brienne must survive this day. She must live.

He will not ask her to marry him again.

Knowing she did once will have to be enough.

*

He gets them killed.

He raises his sword even as their dying words amplify within him and he loves her so much and he misses her already and he’s so consumed with grief for everything that is and was and will not be and he has no time to process anything because it’s a lovely day for it and then the horn sounds and then he has to make her fight him to keep her alive long enough to convince her to kill him.

This is all there is.

From this day until the end of his day.


	4. Chapter 4

“If I yield right from the start—”

“We die.”

*

“If I yield to you after—”

“We die.”

*

“If you try to escape—”

“I die and it starts again.”

“If we try and escape together—”

“We die and it starts again.”

“If we—”

“We die. We always die.”

*

The horn sounds and Jaime drags himself towards where Brienne is waiting for him. Let this be the time she agrees to kill him. This must be the time. She must believe him and then she must kill him. He cannot keep this up much longer. Exhaustion is a distant and pleasant memory. He misses being merely exhausted. He longs for exhaustion. He would kill to be exhausted again.

He has no frame of reference for his level of fatigue. He has died with her so many times. So many times.

This is all there is for him now.

This is all there is for him until Brienne agrees to kill him.

And Brienne will not kill him.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

She believes him.

She will not kill him.

They die.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

She does not believe him.

She will not kill him.

They die.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“We could—”

“No,” Jaime says, “Nothing works. We have tried everything you suggest. Everything.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“You must kill me.”

“And if I won’t?”

“We die.”

They die.

*

She believes him. (“Lovely day for it.”)

She does not believe him. (“Lovely day for it.”)

It does not matter. (“Lovely day for it.”)

No matter what. (“Lovely day for it.”)

She will not kill him. (“Lovely day for it.”)

She will not kill him. (“Lovely day for it.”)

She will not kill him. (“Lovely day for it.”)

*

“What if we—”

“You have to kill me.”

“But if—”

“You have to kill me.”

“Jaime—”

“You have to kill me.”

She has to kill him.

She will not kill him.

*

Time blurs and fades.

Death is never more than a few steps away.

Sometimes Brienne believes him. Sometimes she does not.

Either way, she will not kill him.

Either way, they die.

Always.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

“Brienne _please,_ ” he is so tired and he’s bleeding so much (but not enough, never enough) and she won’t, she just fucking won’t and he needs her to. He needs her to end this madness, “Brienne you must!”

She will not kill him.

*

She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.

*

She believes him. It took ages this time, they are already injured, already nearly dead, but she believes him, but they are already on the ground so it will all be in vain. They are never long for this world once they are on the ground.

She’s on top of him, holding him down, making an effort to look like she’s trying to kill him.

“Don’t,” she warns, “Don’t even fucking think about—”

“I won’t.”

She stops to look at him. The way he said it. He hadn’t meant to sound like that, but he did. Like he knows…

“You’ve yielded before?!”

He doesn’t know why she looks so betrayed by this information every time it comes up. Of course he’s fucking yielded. He’s yielded to her every fucking way he can think of. He’s yielded to Brienne, he’s yielded to the dragon queen, he’s yielded to the fucking “lovely day for it” guard. He’s yielded to anyone who might be able to keep her alive. Everyone. More times than he can remember.

He tries to push her off him to keep them alive a few moments longer but Brienne pushes his arms aside and shoves him back down. Hard.

Her hand is on his throat now. He strains up against it, pushing himself into it. Maybe he can—

She lets go of him completely. Pushes herself to her feet before he realizes what she’s doing. Turns to the queen and says “I y—”

“NO!” Jaime shouts, he’s back on his feet and his head is spinning but he grabs Brienne and gets his stump over her mouth, “I y—”

Her hand collides with his jaw at speed on her way to stop him. She succeeds at keeping the word from his lips. He tastes blood.

And then they die.

“Lovely day for it.”

*

She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.  
She will not kill him.

*

“Our whole lives she said we were going to die together.”

“And you believed her.”

He does not need to answer. Brienne knows he believed Cersei. They’ve had this conversation before. He believed her. He still believes everyone would be better off if Cersei had been correct.

The fight goes on.

“Will you believe me if I tell you we’re going to survive together?”

“Brienne—”

“Jaime, we’re going to survive this.”

No. They aren’t.

Despair threatens to overtake him but he fights against it. She can’t see. She can’t know—

Brienne is watching him and he knows, he knows it’s too late for them this time. Then she says, “I’ve told you that before.”

He shakes his head. She can’t know. She can’t—

“I have,” it no longer sounds like a question, “Jaime, I’ve told you that before.”

There is no sense lying to her, “Yes.”

“What happens after I say it?”

“We die. We die every time. One way or another.”

He has no room left for hope in him. He cannot bear to hear her believe so completely that they will survive moments before the dragonfire hits once again. He can’t… He can’t bear it.

“Jaime. After that. What happens next?”

“It starts again,” he sounds as empty as he feels. Lovely day for it, the horn sounds, they fight, she will not kill him, they die, “It always starts again.”

“Jaime, listen to me. We are not meant to die here.”

“That’s all we do here.”

“But then we live again,” Brienne says, “We are not meant to die here.”

But they die here. (“Lovely day for it.”)

They die here. (“Lovely day for it.”)

They always die here. (“Lovely day for it.”)

And he can’t save her.

*

Brienne screams like she did when she was dragged away from him, the night he lost his hand.

He can’t save her.

*

Brienne yields.

He can’t save her.

*

He yields. Brienne will not kill him as the queen demands.

He can’t save her.

*

He can’t save her.  
He can’t save her.  
He can’t save her.  
He can’t save her.   
He can’t save her.  
He can’t save her.   
He can’t save her.   
He can’t save her.

*

He tries to shield her from the flames.

He can’t save her.

*

Guards swarm them until they fail. Until they fall.

He can’t save her.

*

He tries not to enter the dragonpit.

“Lovely day for it.”

He can’t save her.

*

He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t…

*

Her head rolls as her body falls forward. Dead weight.

He can’t save her.

*

He can’t convince her to kill him. No matter what he says. No matter what he does. She will not kill him.

He can’t save her.

*

He reasons, begs, pleads, screams, sobs. She can’t save him, but she doesn’t have to die with him. She doesn’t have to die with him.

But she does. Every time she does.

He can’t save her.

*

He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t save her. He can’t…

*

She believes him.

This is the first time in at least twenty cycles that he has managed to convince Brienne he has been here before. He’s spent every moment since she believed him telling her that every option she can conceive of ends in their deaths. They’ve been fighting in silence for a while now. She can think of nothing else to suggest and he can think of nothing else to say.

*

“We were married once,” Jaime says hollowly, a beat after their swords meet and then retreat.

“What did you say?”

“We were married once,” he repeats as they circle each other, swords once again at the ready. He’s trying to ignore the dread seeping into his bones but he knows it is only a matter of time. It is only a matter of time before the queen rises to her feet, “Here.”

Brienne doesn’t believe him. He does not blame her for it. Why would she marry him after everything he has done? She’s probably realizing she would only marry him to try and keep him alive. She’s suggested everything else she can think of.

She’s quiet as she focuses on keeping her sword trained on him. On the fight they must continue in order to live, though they are surely to die.

Then she asks, “Here?”

Jaime fakes left and then steps right, inviting Brienne to step with him, which she does, the ideal dance partner as always, even as the end draws near. It takes two steps to have them standing where they tried to speak their vows, “Right here.”

“Then what happened?”

“We died,” he fights against the memory of the feel of her arms around him in their final moments that time, her hand clenched in his hair as he held onto her with everything he had until the dragonfire came, “Together.”

He is grateful she does not have to remember this. She does not remember the fear or the pain. She will never remember the way she said his name for the last time.

But Jaime does.

Jaime does and Jaime does and Jaime does and here they stand, right where they stood, where they could not even speak the last of the words before the end. Where they died then. Where they will die now and then again and again because he can’t save her. He can’t save her.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asks, soft and concerned, even with a sword in her hand. Even with the eyes of the dragon queen fixed upon them.

He shakes his head, his throat too tight to speak the only confession that comes to mind:

He can’t watch her die for him again.

*

He can’t. He can’t. Please gods not again. He can’t watch her die for him but it’s already too late. She’s looking at him and she’s already lowered her sword which means the queen will rise which means the dragonfire will come which means she’s going to die she’s going to die she’s going to die—

Brienne is so gentle when she moves to comfort him, her hand on the side of his face as she says his name with more care than he will ever be worthy of.

His confession escapes when it is far too late, after he’s brought his hand to hers, unable to resist clinging to the comfort she offers. He feels like a helpless child as he says it but it’s all he knows. He doesn’t want to watch her die for him again but it’s too late. It is always too late.

Her eyes are so blue and she’s watching him so closely and behind her the dragon takes aim and it’s too late it’s too late it’s always too late and he’s so sorry and now it’s spilling out of him where he stands and once he starts he can’t stop telling her how sorry he is he’s sorry he’s sorry he’s so desperately sorry he’s failed her he’s failed her he’s failed her he always fails her because he can’t save her he can’t save her nothing he does is enough to save her so he will watch her die for him again because he can’t save her he can’t he can’t he can’t—

“Jaime,” she says, right before the end, before he fails to save her once again, “Close your eyes.”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He tries to contain it. He does, but his body gives in without his consent. He howls and sobs and screams and it does not matter.

Because the horn still sounds.

And he still has to pick up the sword and go fail to save Brienne once again.

*

He doesn’t tell her he’s been here before this time. He does not trust himself to speak without everything else pouring from him so he doesn't. It's taking all of his effort to hold himself together and his very best efforts in this regard are still yielding terrible results. He is a mess and he knows it. He knows it and the more he tries to hold it in, the more he feels his sword shaking in his grip, the more painful the lump in his throat becomes, the more he feels like a dam about burst. He doesn't dare look Brienne in the eyes. 

They’ve barely traded blows when the queen rises.

The queen commands her dragon and Brienne looks at him and knows they are to die here and he’s trying to contain it, to hide it from her. Brienne can't know what this is doing to him but he’s so sorry he’s so sorry he can’t do anything to stop it he can’t do anything to stop it he can’t save her he can’t save her he can’t save her—

"It will be all right," Brienne says like she believes it, because she truly believes it but she's wrong because he can't save her he can't save her he can't save her—

It's the feel of her hand on his that makes everything stop. Just for an instant. Just for a moment. But in that moment he thinks of nothing but the simple reassurance of her hand against his as she looks at him and she believes that everything will be all right.

Then she turns to raise her sword towards the dragon.

*

He can’t save her.

*

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jaime says, knowing it is futile. He left her in the north. Where she was safe. He would do anything for her to be safe but nothing he does is good enough because she is here and she will die no matter what he does. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be here.

“You charged me to be brave. And just. And to defend the innocent.”

“I am not innocent.” He is so very tired.

“This is your trial,” Brienne says after their blades crash together, “Tell me Jaime, what do the gods have to say on the subject of your guilt?”

“Don’t—” he says through clenched teeth, suddenly furious, “presume to understand” he lashes out with his sword, “why this is happening to me.” He makes her work to drive him off, which she does, pushing him back a few paces, throwing him off balance enough to send him to the ground.

“You say you’ve died here thousands of times but you’re not dead,” she’s standing over him, the tip of her sword held at his throat, “The gods are protecting you.”

But it is her the gods are protecting. He is certain of it.

Inspiration strikes as he looks past the blade to her determined face, “Prove it.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Something very close to hope has taken hold in his chest. He has not felt that in…. he does not remember the last time he felt like this. This could be it. This could be how it happens. He has been nowhere close to having her kill him but now… “You said it yourself. The gods are protecting me. If you’re so certain, kill me yourself. We’ll be right back where we started if you’re right.”

Brienne has not moved an inch, the tip of Oathkeeper is still close enough to take him from this world with a flick of her wrist, “Absolutely not.”

The sound of the crowd has shifted, which means the queen has gotten to her feet. The dragon will be called upon to kill them for Brienne’s inaction any second. But maybe, maybe it’s not too late.

“I am about to die anyway,” Jaime reasons, knowing it is true. Knowing Brienne knows it is true. They are about to die but it doesn’t feel like all the other times they were about to die. This is the moment. This is how it ends. This is how she kills him, “If you kill me now I will never ask this of you again.”

He will never have to. If she kills him now he will never have to ask this of her again.

“Jaime.”

“The gods are protecting me,” he begs through his rising panic, knowing she believes it. He knows she’s wrong but he needs her to kill him. This is how it ends. This is how Brienne lives, “The gods are protecting me please, Brienne, you must. You must. Please.”

_Please._

“No.”

“Why not?” his voice breaks as the dragon takes aim. There is still time. There is still time. If she kills him now she will live. She can still live.

Brienne is steadfast as she answers, “Because I am protecting you too.”

*

“Lovely day for it.”

So that’s it then.

The horn sounds.

Jaime picks up the sword and walks towards Brienne but he cannot bring himself to raise it. Her protection is so monumental, so beyond his comprehension. How can her protection be so absolute? That even after everything he has done, even right at the beginning as they are now, before they fight, before he can apologize, before they get the chance to speak at all, her protection is as unwavering as it is at the end.

And he has known so many ends.

He dares not call it love, but he can think of no other word for it, though it is nothing like the love he thought he knew. Nothing like the love anyone else has given him.

He cannot bring himself to do the next part. He cannot bring himself to fight her this time so he falls to his knees in front of her instead.

He says nothing. He knows no words weighty enough to express the depths of his regret, the vastness of his sorrow.

He is broken in ways he did not know he could break.

He has failed her.

He will fail her again.

He always fails her.

So he stares at the ground between them because he is unable to do anything else. He can’t watch it happen again. The queen will rise any second. Will command the dragon any moment. And Brienne will see once again how thoroughly Jaime has failed her. How unworthy he is of her protection. How unworthy he always was of her.

He can’t save her.

He can’t watch her realize she is going to die. Not again. He can’t watch her die again. He can’t. He won’t. Not this time.

But he is Jaime and she is Brienne so he looks up at her before the end.

She’s looking down at him, a solemn expression on her face. The queen has already spoken. They are going to die here and she knows it as well as he does.

Brienne touches him on the shoulder with Oathkeeper’s blade as if she means to knight him.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He feels the memory of her sword touching his shoulder more acutely than any death he has died.

She… Ser Brienne of Tarth would not do that lightly.

And it was not forgiveness or justice or absolution or death she offered.

No, it was nothing as trite as death she gave him.

It was this:

_Be brave._

_Be just._

_Defend the innocent._

The horn sounds.

He can do that.

*

Brienne is here and so is he and they are alive together before they die.

That will have to be enough.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

The horn sounds.

They dance and dance and dance.

That will have to be enough.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He’s been told there are seven hells, and he long thought this was his.

But Brienne is here and the sun is high and they’ve got swords in their hands so maybe, maybe this isn’t so far from what his heaven would be.

That will have to be enough.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Sometimes he manages to convince her that he has been here with her before.

Sometimes he doesn’t.

But even when he does convince her, every time she asks if they’ve fought each other exactly like this he gets to answer truthfully, “No, never quite like this.”

That will have to be enough.

*

“Lovely day for it.”

He fights for her.

The longer they fight, the longer they live.

So he fights for every second, every time.

That will have to be enough.

*

That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will have to be enough.  
That will…

*

“Lovely day for it.”

Jaime closes his eyes and breathes deep. Holds the air in his lungs. Exhales.

Brienne is waiting for him.

This is enough.

*

The horn sounds.

He picks up the sword. He crosses the dragonpit and engages Brienne in combat, and they fight.

He no longer tries to convince her to kill him. He knows she will not.

He no longer tries to kills himself. He knows that will happen without his help.

He still tries to save her. She still tries to save him. Because he is still Jaime. And she is still Brienne.

This is enough.

*

They fight.

And fight.

And talk.

And fight.

And he apologizes.

And she does not forgive him.

And fight.

And bleed.

And talk.

And after a time he tells her he’s been here before.

And after a time she believes him.

And all the while the queen watches.

And all the while death waits for them.

And all the while the sun tracks slowly across the sky.

But Brienne is here with him.

So they fight.

And talk.

And fight.

This is enough.

*

They fight through the long afternoon.

They are injured and tiring but still they fight, as hard as they can.

Their swords kiss and shine in the sunlight.

This is enough.

*

They fight until the sun sinks beneath the edge of the dragonpit.

He sways on his feet. Across from him Brienne looks just as weary. It won’t be long now. It won’t be long before they get to do this all again.

But right now Brienne is here with him so he fights to stay with her.

Even as exhaustion takes hold, he fights.

Jaime fights until he drops.

*

He tries to stand. To get back on his feet. Anything to keep Brienne alive for a few moments longer in this twilight.

He manages to push himself onto his knees before he collapses face first to the ground as Brienne keels over beside him.

A voice Jaime’s never heard before proclaims,

“The gods have spoken.”

*

His name. His name. His name.

Someone is saying his name and it is her.

Brienne.

He opens his eyes.

She’s rolled him over so he is no longer face-down. She is a mess of blood and sweat and grime and dust, sitting propped against his torso, barely holding herself upright. Her breathing is pained, one of her arms is held tight across her body.

He’s impressed she’s vertical at all.

“Jaime,” she says again, her voice is so strained it’s hardly more than breathing. Her hand is on the side of his face.

“Brienne,” his voice is dry and broken. He tries to lift his hand to touch hers but it is so heavy. His whole body is so heavy.

The sky is dark above them. Stars hang in the night sky.

Stars. Night.

Jaime has to close his eyes. He had forgotten the immensity of both. It has been so long since he saw anything but the holding room and the dragonpit in sunlight and then death.

“Brienne…” he’s died with her so many times, but at the end all he wants is to say her name, “Brienne…”

“Jaime you have to get up,” she says, “We have to get up.”

He can’t get up. He can’t get up and neither can she so death will come any moment. It’s too late for them this time. It’s always too late for them. And he is so sorry for this, for everything. “I’m sorry,” he says again, he’s said it a thousand times and he will say it a thousand more, “I’m so sorry Brienne.”

“I know Jaime,” gods she sounds so tired, “I forgive you.”

Brienne.

Brienne has never said that before.

He brings his hand to hers. The effort it takes is staggering but he is determined. He knows it won't be much longer and he needs to hold her hand and say her name while they are still here. 

"Brienne," he says.

"Jaime," she replies.

This is so much more than enough.

*

He waits for dragonfire and death and lovely day for it but it does not come.

Her hand is still in his.

He opens his eyes.

Brienne is still here but beyond her, the dragon is gone.

The dragon is gone.

He lets his head fall to the side, his vision drifting in and out of focus but it’s enough to see that the queen is no longer presiding over the trial. His trial.

“They left us here,” Brienne's voice wavers as she tries to explain.

Jaime manages to focus on the ring of guards around the perimeter of the dragonpit. The guards with their spears pointing towards the crowd, keeping anyone from entering the pit to help them. Or to hurt them.

“Jaime,” she says, choked with emotion she’s making no effort to conceal, “Jaime they said we are in the Stranger’s hands now.”

Jaime understands. The gods have spoken. All but one. If the Stranger allows it…. if he and Brienne can leave the dragonpit by their own power they can live.

“You have to get up,” she tells him again, giving him a little shake as she does so. She’s crying openly now, imploring him to get up the way she once begged him to stay, “Jaime, you have to walk with me.”

He feels his face contort as more emotion than he knows how to contain floods through him. His whole body trembles with exhaustion and pain and relief so all-consuming that it takes him a moment to realize he’s smiling.

There is only one thing left for him to do:

A walk. With Brienne.

It’s a lovely night for it.


End file.
